


Vermin Stick Together

by ramel



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Junkrat makes a new friend, Wilderness Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 12:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15908391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramel/pseuds/ramel
Summary: There comes a time in everyone’s life, in the Outback at least, in which they are left for dead. Probably by an enemy, though a friend may do the same, without so much as an empty canteen or the clothes on their back to start over with.





	Vermin Stick Together

There comes a time in everyone’s life, in the Outback at least, in which they are left for dead. Probably by an enemy, though a friend may do the same, without so much as an empty canteen or the clothes on their back to start over with.

Junkrat would know, having been able to play out such a scene on both ends, and fortunately so on the domineering side in most cases. It was a convenient way to stock up on supplies quickly, much faster then his usual rounds of digging up old scrap and trading it for necessities.

This, unfortunately, was not most cases, and the bastards who had done it had taken his arm as an added insult.

But Junkrat had been stranded before, and with that experience under his metaphorical belt, as he currently didn’t have a physical one, he sought out to make the most of the time it would take for someone to give him a lift into a nearby town. After cursing out at the drifters who had stranded him until his voice could handle it no more, he set to solving what problems he could. Dusting dirt on his skin to prevent the sun from burning it – what fancy ass needed real sunscreen anyway? – scanning the immediate area for any dropped supplies – a lonely slice of half decomposed cardboard with which he made a shitty sandal with it for his foot. Upon finishing that project, he thanked God for not letting the drifters decide to take his leg as well. Lady Luck had left him in one of the grassier plains in the outback, which was bound to have some critter or another hiding amongst its brush.

For now he waits by the road. And waits. And once enough minutes pass he starts to walk. Someone was bound to take pity on the boy short one limb.

The sun moves. He feels like he hasn't. How long a walk was it to the next town? The stomach pains are kicking in after an hour or so, and there’s still no sign of civilization, aside from the cracked, weathered road. Time passes. He has to eat something, and something happens to typically live in the grass.

He gets down on his belly and slinks into the brush, closes his eyes, and listens for sounds of life. Without so much as a breeze it’s easier to track what may be hiding.

At last, there is rustling. Left side, ahead of him, and heading deeper into the field.

Were he younger, he would have lunged in the sounds direction. But he’d grown up with a need for quieter skills, living in an environment such as this.

Shame they hadn’t been well developed. Never had the patience to learn, but there was food here, and he had ways around his shortcomings.

Propping himself on his elbows, he looked about for a moment before catching sight of a bush he had passed. Bingo. Out of the grass now, he strolls over to examine. Not the best material, but the branches had enough bend to them, he had some left over cardboard that he could drill a hole into to hold their shape, and the tall grass was tyable after a few failed attempts.

Not many men could make a trap with one hand, but very few of them would think to use their feet and teeth in the process.

Now down to business. Junkrat places the fragile lure near where he had originally heard the sound. Then down again, on his belly, out of sight.

Rustle.

Bingo.

He makes his own noises, herding the sound into his lure. Time consuming, but worth the wait. When the lure springs, Rat bounces back up on his feet and laughs victoriously, eager to taste his prize. No time for a fire, he’d eat whatever sort of lizard or rat he had caught raw. Can’t afford to be the one to say no to cannibalism, he thinks, laughing at his own joke.

This weren’t a rat, however, and it certainly weren’t no lizard.

It was a rabbit, barely. So young it could fit in his hand comfortably, if callused and boney was to be considered comfortable. Barely had any meat to it – probably still all baby fat. Hardly worth cutting open.

But food was food.

Junkrat tried to tell himself. The bunny stares up at him, not daring to blink, chest practically vibrating with it’s rapid, panicked breaths. He was a predator after all, it was only natural to feel fear.

He stared right back. And then crouched down, looking closer. Testingly, he brought his stump closer, looking for a reaction. The rabbit squirmed away at the realized risk of contact

He draws back. No sense in needlessly spooking the little nibbler.

“Cute girl, aint ya?” Way too cute to kill, but he’d dare not say it out loud, even if he was the only one around for miles.

“Sorry ‘bout the trap mate. Gotta eat somehow, you know? You’re a lucky one, plenty of grass around here to eat. Humans need more then that, bigger bodies and all.” He scoots closer. “You and me’re the same – cute face, rough life – probably deserved better, but! We ended up out here anyways. But we’re both survivors – rats and rabbits have a way of getting just outa reach of trouble.”

He takes the cord attached to the rabbits foot, drawing it closer to him.

“Ain’t gonna eat ya,” he says reassuringly “vermin ought to stick together.” He reaches out to stroke his freshly leashed pet. “Easy gal, just wanna-“

Chomp.

Junkrat howls, rolling back and shaking out his hand in surprise. Ankle-biter, well, hand bitter, had drawn blood.

“I said easy, mother mary that hurt!” He sucks on his finger, copper taste being the first meal he had since being stranded. Better then drinking his own piss. He glares at the bunny, still in his fetal position. It was frozen again, only even moving for heartbeat.

“That was my good hand you bitch.”

Her nose twitched.

Damn her for being adorable

Dora would make a nice name.

Junkrat is quick to switch demeanor.

“Feisty little one, aint’ ya? I love it!” he gets off his back, taking the cord once more and pinning it under his knee before – carefully this time, picking up his new pet.

“I love me a girl with some fight in her. Not that it’s uncommon out here. What’s say we hunt together?” he asked the squirming creature.

He manages to widen the switch around the rabbits foot, and tighten it again around its waist, knowing she’d probably strangle herself if he tried the neck. He’d have to get a proper leash once he managed a ride into town. Trousers too, and he still needs a good meal. Something for Dora to nibble on as well.

Vermin stick together after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this almost two years ago to the day and never published it. Today, I found out that it was in fact, complete, and just needed to be edited. An hour later, here we are.


End file.
